


Baby Steps Along Long Strides

by Kaelonial



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Coach! Viktor, Other, Viktor POV, Yakov is trying his best not to choke out his 16yo prodigy, Young! Viktor, Young! Yuuri, childhood AU, cursing is involved and viktor has to watch his mouth, in fact it's pretty bad and also frowned upon, larger age difference for the sake of cute interactions, no romance but tons of cute platonic fluff, they are babies and I love them, which is why there is no romance because romancing an 8yo as a 16yo is not good ya'll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelonial/pseuds/Kaelonial
Summary: “I’m Viktor.” I replied, when a tug on my sleeve gaining my attention. The boy had a fistful of the fabric, cheeks burning.“My name is Yu-Yuuri.” He mumbled nervously in English. I beamed at him, taking both of his hands in mine.“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuri!” I gushed, and his face fell into a deeper shade of pink. Yakov shifted, and I turned to him. He lifted his eyebrows irritably, signaling that it was time for the real work to start. At least he was holding his tongue around the kids. I turned back to Yuuri and Yuuko, smiling.“I have to get back to practice, but I hope to see you both again.” I say in English.





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! Another AU you ask? Why yes! But aren't you currently working on an AU? Also yes! But I am a masochist with too much time to write and too many ideas.  
> This AU basically involves a 16yo Viktor Nikiforov, who has been whisked away to a quiet rink in Japan by his exasperated coach, who just wants the boy to FOCUS. A chance encounter with 8yo Yuuri Katsuki leaves Viktor entranced, and he wants nothing more than for this very adorable, very anxious child to succeed. And thus he becomes Yuuri's unofficial coach! Much to the chargin of Yakov. This is basically all fluff with a tiny bit of angst, and will be relatively short. I hope you all enjoy!

I huffed haughtily, not bothering to pause at the venom dripping from Yakov’s tongue. Instead I let my legs carry me, the bitter cold nipping through the fabric easily. I really should have worn something other than tights. I keep my head upturned, ignoring anything my coach was trying to tell me in a vain attempt that my pettiness would get him to shut up. It didn’t work.

 

 The soft taps of my shoes rang out through the quiet of the morning, most of the inhabitants of (what was this town called again? Hatsetsu? Something like that.) not even stirring awake at this god forsaken hour. It was Yakov’s idea to bring me here. To this sleepy little port town that barely got enough tourists to keep businesses afloat. It wasn’t a bad town per say just…boring. In every sense of the word. From the quiet streets to the rumble of the waves- everything was too lackluster. Nothing like St. Petersburg. At least there I could easily slip away from practice and go somewhere fun. Here I only had two options: The beach and a little onsen down the road. Either option would get me caught pretty quickly.

 

I huffed again as I rounded the corner, a long trail of steps leading up to the rink coming into view. Yakov’s words were but a dull buzz now, the morning breeze helping to quell my frustration. I quickly ascended the steps, thankful that Yakov was in no shape to catch up. The familiar burn in my muscles as they woke up brought a smile to my face, that was at least something that I could count on staying the same.  As I reached the top of the steps I turned on my heel to face Yakov, who was slowly making his way towards me, a scowl still carved onto his face. I smirked to myself before turning back towards the rink, not bothering to wait for the old man. I gazed up at the building before me, each step bringing it dreadfully close. I struggled to read the foreign lettering, before giving up and dropping my eyes to my phone, the directions and hours of Ice Castle Hatsetsu already saved to my favourites. I scowled at the photos of the inside of the rink, one of the empty rink with fresh ice, the other filled with people, some very obviously struggling to hold their own on the ice. It wasn’t like I wasn’t thankful for a rink of my own, a place where I’d be the only skater and I could skate for however long I wanted, but I had been happy at my home rink. This one felt so…inferior. Maybe because it was so small comparatively.

 

I stuffed my phone back into my skate bag, adjusting it on my shoulder before taking a breath and stepping through the double glass doors. The gust of cold air blew across my face, some stray hair tickling my face as I walked through the lobby. I glanced around the small space, two doors were on either side of the reception desk, no doubt leading to the rink itself, and the walls were littered with pamphlets that must have been about lessons, though I couldn’t make out the writing. I stepped up towards the reception desk, staring blankly at the rows of rental skates as I waited for someone to appear. I heard the door open behind me but I didn’t care to look back, simply leaning down to rest an elbow on the cold wood, chin resting in the palm of my hand. Yakov grunted as he took his place beside me. A minute passed before an older looking woman passed by, a warm smile spreading across her face as she laid her eyes on us. I was vaguely aware of how rude I was being and straightened up, offering a smile in return. She was an older woman, perhaps in her 40’s, and she was on the heavier side, though you could really on tell from her face. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, a hairband keeping any stray hairs at bay.

            “How may I help you?” She asked in accented English, her eyes flickering from Yakov to myself. I suppose foreigners weren’t very common. Yakov replied in his own thick English, informing her that we had a reservation for the rink set up. She nodded in response, flipping through a clip board to her right. She quickly grabbed a pen and marked something off. Turning back to us, she gestured to the door on her left.

            “It’s that way to the rink, you’re still a bit early so I believe there are still some people on the ice. I’ll give an announcement once it’s your allotted time.” She gave another smile and we thanked her, ducking through the doors. True to her word, there were people on the ice. Children to be exact. As we walked towards one of the benches, I couldn’t help but watch in amusement as the children skated, their laughs ringing through the otherwise empty rink.

            “Warm up, I want you on that ice in 10.” Yakov barked, taking a seat before crossing his arms and staring out at the children. I hummed in response, quickly tying up my hair and fishing through my skate bag. I eventually found my phone, headphones tangled messily in a small front pocket. I frowned, doing my best to detangle the wires as I went off to find a quiet corner. I did my basic warm up, music blasting in my ears to block out anything or anyone. These were the moments I liked best; just myself and my music, my body doing exactly what was commanded out of it, without the incessant barking of anyone else. Once properly warmed up, I made my way back to Yakov, silently pulling on my skates, turning the music up in case he tried to say anything. I laced up lazily, eyes trailing back to the ice, and thus back to the children. They were cute, to say the least. The small girl was about 5 inches taller than the boy, no doubt older as well, as she skated circles around him. Her brown hair was tied in a messy ponytail, almost too short to be able to work, and she was smiling warmly at him. The boy was much less amused, glaring at his feet as he struggled to keep up with her. His hair was messy, and he wore what was probably the most obnoxious sweater I had ever seen. It was a bold yellow with blue sleeves, a blue “Y” adorning the front. I chuckled as he puffed his cheeks out at the girl, who had swept past him, ruffling his hair along the way.

           

“Vitya, focus. This is exactly why I brought you here.” Yakov chided, his rough tone barely passed for an “inside voice”. I rolled my eyes and stood up, pulling out my headphones and making my way to the entrance of the rink. I snapped off my blade guards, placing them against the wall. The children had stopped skating, and instead took to staring at me. I threw them a small smile before pushing off onto the rink, the familiar cut of the ice being music to my ears. A small “whoa” echoed through the rink, and I glanced at the children, the boy had fallen onto his knees and was watching me in awe, the girl no less entranced. I chuckled, a burst of confidence blooming in my chest as I picked up speed, kicking off and landing a perfect toe loop. The excited cheers of the children echoed through the rink.

           

“Vitya! No jumps, you haven’t even warmed up properly, do you want to hurt yourself!?” Yakov bellowed, the children flinching at the noise. I waved my hand dismissively, throwing a wink towards the kids as I finished a lap. Worth it.

 

I skated idly for a bit longer, running through a few figures. I could still hear the children playing, albeit far away from me to allow me space, but their laughter made this rink less lonely. I skated to the boards as Yakov beckoned me, giving me a rundown of what I should work on. I listened half heartedly, all too aware that my step sequences were sloppy. I felt the itch of irritation under my skin as he continued to ramble, and I visibly sighed in relief as the receptionist called him over, saying something about creating a set schedule for my usage of the rink. Yakov waved me off as he made his way to the woman and I was all to happy to get away, pushing away from the boards and circling around once more before even thinking about getting any work done. I wanted to familiarize myself with this rink. I watched the children show off to each other, the girl performing a few spins and striking a pose much to the delight of the boy. He, in turn, made a small figure before making a graceful stop, posing with a small flourish and “Ta-da!” The girl clapped excitedly, exclaiming something in Japanese that made the boy smile wider. I grinned at the sight, it’s always good to have friends that encourage you. I felt a pang in my chest as I remembered all my rink mates back home, wishing desperately to go back where I belong.

 

I was vaguely aware of another figure barreling onto the ice, shoving the young boy onto the ice. The girl turned to the intruder and began yelling at him, the newcomer barely listening. He was a fairly large boy, your typical bully-type. I narrowed my eyes, ready to intervene if I needed to. The smaller boy, however, clamored to his knees, face tight in frustration and yelled something else at the boy. The newcomer only snorted, placing his hand squarely on the boy’s face and pinching at his cheeks with the other hand. If I could recognize their relationship, maybe I wouldn’t be so ticked off, but I had no idea if this older boy was friend or foe, and he was interfering with my cute children time. _Ok, ew that sounded gross._ I watched their banter for a beat longer, the older boy finally releasing the other as the girl rushed to help him to his feet. The larger boy put a hand atop the younger boy’s head, and said something that made a spark ignite in the younger boy, his smaller, pudgier hands smacking the older boy’s hands away before taking off, the older boy right on his heels. The girl followed, although she looked irritated. I guess this happens a lot.

 

I shrugged to myself and continued, deciding to finally work on my step sequence, the children were still pretty far and I had a feeling they wouldn’t make their way towards me. I ran through my routine, keeping my jumps at singles to prevent getting tired too early, the rink no longer feeling cold as my body warmed at the movement, muscles relaxing into muscle memory as I continued my routine. I closed my eyes, letting my movements overtake me, the familiar tension of taut muscles oddly calming, even as the sounds of squealing children rang out. I was setting up for another jump when I heard the girl cry out, my eyes opening only to be met with the small boy tumbling right in my path. My body moved faster than my mind, my legs sweeping out from underneath me as I attempted to curve away from him, but the sudden movement threw off my balance, and I braced myself as I fell harshly on my hip, momentum letting me slide on the stinging ice. I hissed in pain once I stopped, gingerly lifting myself and assessing the damage, both my ankles were fine, and aside from a deep scrape on my forearm and what would be a huge, annoying bruise on my hip, I was unscathed. I quickly whipped around to make sure the boy was ok, only to find him on his knees, eyes bubbling with tears. The girl was kneeling beside him, rubbing small circles on his arms, venom spitting from her mouth as she screamed at the other boy, who visibly shrank at her words. I slowly made my way towards them, my hip throbbing in protest, before kneeling down to the boy.

“Are you ok?” I asked, praying my Japanese wasn’t as bad as Yakov had claimed. The boy only stared, eyebrows knitted together almost painfully, soft sniffles escaping as tears poured down he cheeks. His eyes screwed shut and he hid his face in his sleeves, muffling his shaky hiccups. I frowned in concern, eyes quickly scanning for any cuts or bruises. When I saw none I turned to the girl, who finished glaring daggers at the older boy before turning to me.

“He got scared.” She replied in clumsy English, and I silently thanked any god out there.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” I replied in English, before clumsily switching to what little Japanese I knew. Damn, I really should have learned a bit more of the language. The girl smiled at me and shook her head, pointing to the older boy, who flinched at the action.

“Nishigori was the one who pushed him, so it’s his fault.” The boy paled, eyes wide and fearful as he looked at me. He apologized in English, bowing his head in embarrassment. I narrowed my eyes at him for a split second, before realizing that he’s only a child. I’m sure I’d done my fair share of pushing when on the ice.

“Just be careful, he really could have gotten hurt.” I say curtly in English, not sure how to phrase it in Japanese. The boy, Nishigori, kept his head down, face burning. I turned back to the boy in front of me, who was still crying softly. I tapped his knee gently, and he slowly lowered his arms, eyes still full of tears, and looked up at me. I gave him a huge smile, hoping to make him feel a little better. He sniffled a bit before pointing to my forearm, I glanced down at it. The skin was red from the fall, with the slightest hint of blood bubbling to the surface. I’d have to get in bandaged before continuing. He said something in Japanese, the only words I could make out being, “I’m sorry”. The longer he spoke, the harder it was for him to stop crying, and eventually he broke down into sobs, repeating that he was sorry. I shook my head, gently placing my hand atop his head, gaining his attention and successfully calming him down a bit.

“I’m ok.” I replied, carefully sounding out the phrase. The boy only gazed up at me, his eyes full of emotion. His eyes tore away from mine at the sound of the door opening, Yakov’s eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

“Stop messing around and get to work!” He growled, shocking all three children. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes again and he began to shake. _Damage control, Viktor._ Without thinking too much about it, I scooped the boy in my arms, he squeaked in protest before swiftly wrapping his arms around me to prevent from falling. I balanced him on my good hip, arms cradling his legs as I skated towards the exit of the rink.

“I wasn’t messing around, we fell and I was trying to help him.” I replied, glancing backwards to make sure that the other two children were following me. I stepped off the ice, Yakov handing me my guards and I slipped the on, the boy still sniffling into my shoulder. I could feel a wet spot starting to form but I wasn’t too worried about it. Yakov watched me, though he didn’t speak. I settled the boy on the bench, kneeling in front of him and rummaging through my bag, pulling out my tissue box. His eyes lit up immediately, and I pulled the poodle cover in front of my face, imitating barking. The boy smiled through his tears, and I took that as a sign that he was starting to feel better. Pulling out a few tissues I let him hold the plush cover, grinning as he wiggled the feet around. I wiped the tissue along his cheek, drying up the tears that were no longer falling, and let him blow his nose. I held out my hand with a smile, and he gingerly balled up the tissue before handing it to me. I put the used tissues in a small plastic bag that I had to throw away anyhow. I turned back to the boy with a smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. His eyes were still red and puffy, but at least his breathing was even and he didn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown. The girl made her way towards us and sat down next to him, asking him something I couldn’t understand. The boy nodded in return, a small smile on his lips. The girl smiled back and turned to me before bowing slightly.

“Thank you.” She said, before holding out her hand, “My name is Yuuko.”

I smiled and took her small hand in mine, giving it a small shake.

“I’m Viktor.” I replied, a tug on my sleeve gaining my attention. The boy had a fistful of the fabric, cheeks burning.

“My name is Yu-Yuuri.” He mumbled nervously in English. I beamed at him, taking both of his hands in mine.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuri!” I gushed, and his face fell into a deeper shade of pink. Yakov shifted, and I turned to him. He lifted his eyebrows irritably, signaling that it was time for the real work to start. At least he was holding his tongue around the kids. I turned back to Yuuri and Yuuko, smiling.

“I have to get back to practice, but I hope to see you both again.” I say in English, thankful when Yuuri seems to understand without a translation. He nods vigorously, his cheeks made impossibly plumper by his wide smile. We said our goodbyes and I watched them leave the rink, Nishigori hanging back guiltily. Yakov gave me a thorough lecture for injuring myself the first day of practice, but he said nothing bad about the children. The rest of practice was brutal, but the thought of how excited Yuuri and Yuuko had been watching me skate made it a little more bearable.


	2. Fall In Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No more stupid stunts like yesterday. Competitions are just around the corner and I swear if I have to deal with your bullshit because you were showing off-“ I cut him off with a scoff, gracefully pushing off my thighs to stand, skate bag draped around my shoulder. I brushed past him towards to door.  
> “You worry too much Yakov!” I singsong, dramatically swinging open the door for him, gesturing for him to go through first. He reluctantly does.  
> “Besides, when I have I ever not recovered from any injury with grace and ease?” I teased, knowing full well that I was hell on earth when injured, constantly whining to get back on the ice at the risk of injuring myself more. Yakov had on more than one occasion almost popped a blood vessel because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW is it obvious that I know next to nothing about bath houses in Japan? Also finally a new chapter!! I've had awful writers block for the last two weeks but I finally finished this chapter, although I'm not too happy with it but oh well! As usual I have no beta reader and half of the time I'm writing these past 3am so I'm sorry for any mistakes! I hope you enjoy!!

Trying to sleep that night had been absolute hell. A huge, disgusting bruise had formed over the course of practice, the deep purple fading into a sour yellow. It wasn’t going away anytime soon, and it not only made skating more difficult but seemingly everything in my life. I had finished a much needed shower in my hotel room, the warm water doing wonders for my muscles, when I realized how much the bruise hurt. I could barely put weight on my hip without the dull pain throbbing just beneath the skin. I sighed, haphazardly drying my hair as I walked out of the bathroom, not bothering with clothes for now. Sleeping naked was much for comfortable anyhow. I sat down at the edge of the bed, the soft sheets soothing my hot skin, and I flipped through the TV channels, settling on a very humourous looking talk show, if only I could understand it. I threw my towel onto the nearby chair, damp ropes of hair falling every which way, my body aching too much for me to care.

 

I sat for a bit, my back hunched as I barely registered the program playing. Eventually, the room was too chilly to bear alone, and I snaked under the covers of the too soft bed, making the mistake of rolling onto my right side, my full weight pressing into the bruise. I hissed, rolling back over, snatching my phone from the nightstand. The program played in the background as I focused my attention of social media, checking how many likes I had gotten on photos I’d posted while in Hatsetsu. I had only been here two days without practice, but my phone was practically full of photos. The town itself may bore me out of my skull, but the view from the beach was astounding. The nighttime market was a treat as well, the soft lights washing the once vacant streets in a warm glow. I read some of the comments, mostly fans gushing about the scenery or how much they adored me, until I came across a familiar username.

 

**_Christophe-GC_ ** _: You never told me you were leaving St. Petersburg! I’d be hurt if you didn’t look so handsome in these photos! ;)_

 

I snorted, deciding to play along. I replied with a simply kissy emoji, too tired to reply with full-on flirting. Chris was a year younger than me, but that didn’t stop him from coming onto me. We were still rivals of course, and I wipe the floor with his ass all the time, but something about him is impossible to hate. Maybe it’s that innocent face that hides his secret flirtatious personality. I remember how soft spoken and sweet he was the first time I met him; what happened to that sweet child?

 

I scrolled through a few more of my photos, taking solace in the fact that a few of my rink mates left comments on how lonely they were without me. I really did miss them, and it’s a cruel punishment to be stuck with Yakov all by my lonesome. There’s no one to deflect his anger onto. I pouted at the thought of another rough training tomorrow, Yakov’s voice ringing in my ears through the hours. Groaning I decided to turn in, not wanting to be sleep deprived on top of being banged up. I clicked off the TV, letting the sounds seeping through the walls from the outside lull me to sleep.

 

To my surprise, I was much more energized the next morning, waking up before my alarm even went off. I rolled out of bed, not a wink of sleep still left in my eyes as I made my way to the bathroom. I hummed in the shower, careful to avoid scrubbing at my bruise too much. Hopping out I quickly blow dried my hair, taking the time to wrap it in a proper bun. It’d be loose and wispy by the end of practice, but at least it looked good for now. I decided to skip over tights today, opting for my grey sweats, not wanting my legs to be too cold again. Careful not to tussle my bun too much, I slipped on my very soft, very cute lilac sweater. It was one of my favourites, and it always made me feel even cuter when out on the ice. Even if no one was there today, I could revel in the fact that I’m cute as hell no matter what. Struck with an idea, I bounded to the balcony, phone in hand. The sun was just barely cresting over the water, and I took a quick selfie, smiling at the ring of light behind me. _Beautiful! It’s not being conceited if it’s true._ I thought to myself, posting the photo on Instagram with a string of emojis as the caption. A knock on my door drew me out of my quiet fun, and I reluctantly stalked over to the door, unlocking it to let Yakov in.

            “Morning, Vitya.” He greeted roughly, shouldering past the door, holding two drinks in his hands.

            “Morning.” I replied lazily, plucking my cup from his hand. I stuffed my phone in my pocket, taking a small sip of my drink as I began to pack my skate bag, deciding to bring my heat pack in case the fall from yesterday somehow morphed into some kind of horrible muscle cramp. Yakov rambled on about what we would focus on today, my mind only registering the numerous jumps we’d be reviewing. I only hummed in response, taking my sweet time packing up. I knew how much it pissed him off.

            “Vitya.” He called gruffly, his tone forcing me to draw my head up, lest he decide to up the difficulty of practice in retaliation. He stared me down for a second before continuing.

            “No more stupid stunts like yesterday. Competitions are just around the corner and I swear if I have to deal with your bullshit because you were showing off-“ I cut him off with a scoff, gracefully pushing off my thighs to stand, skate bag draped around my shoulder. I brushed past him towards to door.

            “You worry too much Yakov!” I singsong, dramatically swinging open the door for him, gesturing for him to go through first. He reluctantly does.

            “Besides, when I have I ever not recovered from any injury with grace and ease?” I teased, knowing full well that I was hell on earth when injured, constantly whining to get back on the ice at the risk of injuring myself more. Yakov had on more than one occasion almost popped a blood vessel because of it.

 

The walk to the rink was mostly silent, Yakov and I both taking generous gulps from our protein drinks. Once inside the rink I ran through my normal warm ups, only slightly disappointed that the laughter bouncing off the walls was absent. Practice had been brutal, the ache in my hip only growing by the hour, my numerous trip-ups not doing any good for the tender flesh. Maybe it was a worse fall than I anticipated. Biting my lip, I set up for a camel spin, kicking off with my right skate into a perfect spin, my left skate rotating in a tight circle. I came out of the spiral clean enough, just barely a wobble in my step, but Yakov was having none of it. By the end of practice, I must have gone through that spiral hundreds of time, and each step out was worse than the next. Finally, Yakov had sighed, cutting off practice early. I skated toward him briskly, the knot in my brow only growing, teeth gritting to try and ignore the throbbing in my hip.

 

            “Yakov,” I began, chest huffing slightly as I gently pressed against the boards, “I’m fine, let me keep going.” My eyes made contact with his, and I glared, knowing full well he was set on finish practice. I hung my head in annoyance; I had gotten through practice with injuries worse than this, why couldn’t I just keep my footing? Wordlessly I pushed off the boards, maybe with a little too much force, and went through my cool down routine, jaw set in frustration. Yakov said nothing, even after I stomped off the ice, yanking loose my laces and gruffly setting my blade guards in place before tossing them in my bag. I had begun to tug on my track shoes, albeit sloppily in my growing irritation, when Yakov finally spoke.

            “Vitya,” He began cautiously, voice still as commanding as ever. I whipped my head up, eyes narrowing.

            “What!” I spit back, stomping my foot down once I finally wrangled the shoe on, sending a wave of pain to my hip. He watched me, expression neutral, which was not a good sign. It was usually a warning that he was absolutely not in the mood for games. Or sass for that matter. I had been on the receiving end of that look too many times to count, and it never ended well. Usually in tears. My tears specifically. I deflated quickly, tearing my gaze away and taking a shaky breath.

            “Sorry…” I muttered, beginning to put on my other shoe, much more gently than before. He sighed above me again, and I felt him press a firm hand on my shoulder, gaining my attention again, hands hovering over my laces.

            “I know you’re hurting,” he began, eyes trained on me, “and as usual you’ve avoided telling me.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he squeezed my shoulder roughly, and I snapped it shut.

            “So, you are not to step foot on the ice until you’re back in top condition.” My eyes blew wide at his words, and I began to flounder, wanting to protest but knowing there was nothing that could be done.

            “Yakov, competition is only two months away! It’s just a bruise I’ll be fine; I can’t afford to lose practice time!” I finally choked out, the urgency in my voice almost embarrassing. Yakov removed his hand from my shoulder and folded them across his chest, a sure sign that he was about to end this conversation.

            “You also can’t afford to be an idiot and injure yourself playing with some children, and yet here we are.” He barked, and I barely kept from flinching at the venom in his tone. His face softened and he ran a hand through his thinning hair.

            “Look, Vitya, we can’t take the risk of you hurting yourself more by agitating your muscles. You can’t complete a clean camel spin, what do you think would happen if we had tried any jumps?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, but I provided one anyway.

            “I wouldn’t have been able to land one.” I replied miserably, knowing full well the extent of the pain- just putting weight on my leg agitated it. I balled my hands into fists, the fabric of my sweatpants bunching at the movement. It was a stupid bruise; how could it be hurting so much? I felt the familiar pressure behind my eyes, and I blinked stubbornly to keep the tears at bay. I wasn’t going to cry over some bruise, I wasn’t going to cry over the fact that I couldn’t even skate because of it. I wouldn’t cry. A small sniffle betrayed my resolve, and I stiffened as Yakov bent down to finish tying my laces, letting me keep some semblance of dignity as a hot tear slipped down my cheek. He was pretty kind when he wanted to be.

 

            I composed myself quickly, Yakov busying himself with gathering all of my equipment to give me space. I heaved a long sigh and stood up, the soreness in my right leg spreading to my thigh now, the muscle stiff. I threw my skate bag over my shoulder, Yakov taking the hint that I was ready to leave. The walk back was silent, my eyes wandering to the sights beside me, mind whirling. We reach the hotel and split without ceremony, Yakov informing me that he’d come back to pick me up in an hour.

            “For what?” I questioned, pressing the button to my floor. Yakov huffed as I moved back, forcing him to press the button to his floor himself. He settled back beside me once the doors closed.

            “We’re going to a hot spring.” He said simply, as if it was obvious. My eyes were trained on the stainless steel doors, the vague outline of our bodies distorted.

            “Why? You know you have to get naked for those right? I don’t think it’s exactly legal for me and my coach-“ Yakov cut off my snarking with a groan, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

            “Alright, _you’re_ going to a hot spring, smartass,” he reiterated, “and you’ll keep going there until your muscles heal properly.” I let his words roll in my head for a bit before I reply.

            “Wouldn’t it be easier to go to a physician? Then I could just get pain killers-“

            “And work yourself until you completely destroy your leg? No. You’re doing this the hard way. You will rest and go to the hot spring. Light cardio only. Understood?” He gave me a pointed look, and had I not already embarrassed myself by crying at the rink I may have argued with him. Instead I hummed in response, stepping out quickly once the doors opened.

 

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I didn’t dream.

 

Sure enough, an hour later I was pulled out of the comforting void of sleep by an incessant pounding on my door. I stirred groggily, already feeling a headache coming on. I trudged to the hotel door, lazily unlocking it and swinging it open. Yakov gave me a once over before grunting irritably.

            “You should have been ready when I got here.” He chastised as I made my way back into the room, sleepily tugging on my shoes. I waved my hand dismissively in his direction, my heel popping in place in my shoe. I quickly brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back into a bun, not as clean and crisp as it had been this morning but it would do. I made my way to Yakov, who was waiting impatiently by the door. I grinned at him as I pushed past, opening the door and making my way out.

 

We took a cab. Which was (in my humble opinion) much more entertaining than it should be. Mainly because I got to watch as Yakov and the cabbie struggled to understand each other’s accents. I hid a chortle in my sleeve, the soft fabric tickling my nose as I looked out the window, watching the sea roll by. Yakov was blissfully silent, fiddling with something on his phone, so I let my mind wander. Mostly to how I was going to bullshit my way back onto the ice. I’d play along with this hot springs deal for maybe a week at most, if my hip didn’t feel better by then than tough shit. I poked my hip gingerly, exasperated when it was still tender at the slightest touch. Maybe I had actually bruised the bone, I was pretty lanky. If that was the case then I’d be wasting my time at the hot springs, hot water can’t exactly heal bones. My mind wandered back to the fall; I had spent years learning how to fall properly on the ice, which I suppose really saved me more grief in the end. But a fall like that was harder to adjust, I had only barely avoided twisting an ankle. Yakov would’ve slaughtered me, had it not been for the laws of this land.

 

My memory then fell on the boy- Yuuri. How upset he had been that I had almost gotten really hurt on his behalf. I couldn’t help but grin a bit- he had definitely overreacted, but I guess that is to be expected of a child. He was absolutely adorable though, I’m not one for children, but I could see settling down and having a few if they were even a little bit like Yuuri. I really did hope to meet him again, maybe skate with him a bit to rub it in that fat kid’s face. My thoughts were interrupted as we slowed to a stop, the momentum of the cab pulling my forward a bit before gently setting me back against the seats. My eyes focused on the sight right outside my window- an elaborate entryway with lettering I couldn’t decipher loomed high above, leading to a small paved path that flowed into a building. It was definitely an authentic hot spring, not a speck of modernism in sight. I made my way out of the cab as Yakov spoke with the cabbie, my feet drawn to the sight before me. I glanced up at the sign, almost wishing I could read Kanji. Almost.

Yakov stepped beside me, head jerking to gesture to the building. I followed him as we made our way down the path, drinking in the atmosphere. You could already feel the humidity, and the steam billowing from behind the wooden structure was enchanting. As we reached the sliding doors, Yakov turned to me briskly, a quirk in his brow.

“Behave yourself.” He demanded gruffly, before sliding open the door gently. I was greeted by the heavenly smell of food, the warm lighting instantly putting me at ease. There was a small enclave with a shelf lined with slippers. I leaned down to inspect the slippers closer when an unfamiliar voice called out something in Japanese. I turned to face the voice, Yakov already making his way towards the man. He was stocky, not as stocky as Yakov but definitely getting there. He wore a friendly smile on his face that seemed almost unnatural, but his soft voice told me otherwise. He wore a small blue robe over a green waist coat, adorned with a red bowtie, and I couldn’t help but smile at how comical his ensemble looked. Yakov grunted out some awkward Japanese and the man smile sympathetically, before switching to his own very heavily accented English.

“The pleasure is all mine sir,” he cooed, taking down some information in a notepad. He gestured to the rack behind me.

“Please take off your shoes and wear the complimentary slippers.” Yakov nodded and quietly pulled off his shoes, and I did the same. After finding a pair that fit (were my feet always this big?) I walked up to the small reception desk with Yakov. I gave a small smile and a hello to the man as Yakov finished putting away his shoes.

“Hello! You are Viktor, yes? I hope you enjoy our little inn!” He replied mildly, that bright smile never leaving his lips. I nodded, smiling right back. So this place wasn’t just a hot spring? That’s…interesting. Yakov stood beside me and bowed his head slightly to the man, who returned the gesture.

“Please enjoy your stay!” He called, gesturing for us to go through the slightly ajar door. I let Yakov lead, following him through the doorway and into a wide dining area. Scattered all about the room were short tables, adorned with nothing but pillows as seats, a decent sized TV centered against the wall. To my right looked to be a small concession stand, a very disinterested girl leaning against the wood, a large bandana holding her mope of hair away from her face. I met her eyes and gave a small smile, receiving a very forced, obviously rehearsed smile back. I couldn’t help but huff in amusement. Yakov motioned for me to follow, and we sat at a low table in the far corner, away from the scattered drunks in the room. It took a bit of effort to lower myself onto the pillow, and were I not in a very public place I would have made much more of a fuss. We sat in silence for a moment, my eyes trained on the TV ahead of me. Some sort of soccer match was going on, but outside of skating, I couldn’t care less about sports. I startled when I menu was placed in front of me, and I whipped my head to look up. The girl from behind the counter bent down and gave Yakov his menu, before giving a short bow and stalking away. She really hates her job, huh? I glanced down at the small slip of cardstock in my hands, sighing in relief to find that it was in English. I decided to stick with water and a salad, lest Yakov get on my hide for breaking my diet as well. The girl came back to take our orders, only slightly grimacing as she tried to make out the English behind our accents. As we waited, I pulled out my phone, only slightly aware that it might be considered rude, but too bored to care. Not that this place was boring, it was just so comfortable and almost sleepy, and with only a crusty old man to converse with, it grew boring quick.

 

I scrolled through Instagram, liking various photos from Chris, who had taken up pole dancing. And with how many photos he was uploading of him flouncing on the pole I could safely assume he was very much enjoying it. I typed out a quick message on one particular photo; his ass on full display as he bent over in very revealing tights, a pair of high heels decorating his feet, and his head between his legs, a playful smirk on his lips.

****

**_V-Nikiforov:  tag urself I’m the high heels_ **

 

**_Georgi-PoP: im the cameraguy in the mirror_ **

****

**_Christophe-GC: can’t I just be sexy for once without you two making it weird_ **

****

**_V-Nikiforov: it’s already weird chris ur like 12_ **

****

**_Christophe-GC: (knife emoji)_ **

****

**_Georgi-PoP: first of all he’s 13 so shut the fuc k up_ **

****

**_V-Nikiforov: lol_ **

****

**_Christophe-GC: im blocking both of you_ **

 

I chuckled at the threat, knowing full well he couldn’t stand being apart from me for too long, even on social media. A small voice came from behind me and I stuffed my phone in my lap, a smile growing on my lips to hide any possible embarrassment. A very small, very round woman was bending slightly beside me, a kind smile to rival the one the man wore on her lips. Her hair was a gorgeous chocolate brown, shining warmly under the lights.

            “One salad for Vicchan! Here you are~” She cooed, placing the small salad bowl in front of me. Despite being a bit thrown off by my apparent nickname (I think it was a nickname anyway) I smiled graciously and thanked her. She nodded in return and moved to Yakov, placing a small bowl of miso soup down in front of him. She gathered our menus and stood beside us for a moment before speaking again.

            “When you’re ready to soak in the springs please come find me. I’ll get you situated.”

            “I will, thank you, Ma’am.” I flashed her a smile, and she placed one hand on her cheek, smiling moreso to herself than me.

            “So polite! But please call me Hiroko, we aren’t that fancy! Make yourself at home dear.” She bowed again before making her way to other customers, her step light. I couldn’t help but smile at her cheery demeanor, she obviously loved working here. I turned back to my table, grimacing at the salad in front of me. I glanced at Yakov’s soup, the smell wafting around me. Yakov gave me a hard look before he dipped his spoon in, and I succumbed to my fate of a bland lunch. I had barely taken a forkful of my salad when Yakov spoke up.

            “That woman, Hiroko, is one of the owners of this inn.” He said curtly, taking in a spoonful of his miso. I hummed in response. I guess that explained why she was so sweet, she had to be, this was her business.

            “The man we met earlier is Toshiya, her husband. And the girl who took our orders is Mari, their daughter.” I chewed my food thoughtfully, starting to see the family resemblance. Although their daughter wasn’t nearly as cheery as her parents, though I suppose I wouldn’t be either if I was born into running a business. Swallowing, I turned to Yakov, who was watching the TV.

            “Why should I know all this?” I asked incredulously, “I’m only staying here for the hot springs, right?” I turned back to my salad, fully expecting a grunt in response. But none came.

 

I whipped my head up, staring at the older man, who was now paying very close attention to the green onions in his soup.

            “Yakov-“ I began, but a small squeak broke my train of thought. My gaze moved from the man in front of me to the other side of the dining hall, a mess of black hair hiding rather poorly behind Hiroko, who was in the middle of serving another customer. I could only see small hands grasping at her pants, her hand resting on the tiny bit of hair peeking out behind her. She called out something in Japanese, probably chastising the child for nearly knocking her over. She served the customer and gave a quick apology before turning to the little one, crouching and obscuring my view. She stayed like that for a few moments before she turned her head to gaze at me, a familiar face peeking out from behind her before scurrying back behind her. She smiled warmly at me before standing up and walking towards me, the child whining in protest as they attempted to stay hidden. Soon enough she was to the left of our table, bowing slightly.

            “I’m sorry to disturb you Vicchan,” she began, before reaching around herself to pluck up the child. My eyes widened in surprise as Yuuri dug his face into Hiroko’s shoulder, gripping her tightly.

            “But it seems little Yuu-chan here knows you.” She chuckled when he gave a small whine, setting him down in front of her. He kept his back to me, face hidden in the fabric of her pants. I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, clasping my hands in front of my face.

            “Yuuri~!” I called, ecstatic to see the chubby child again, “It’s so nice to see you again!!” Yuuri turned slightly, only one side of his face peeking out, his face scrunched up in worry.

            “You’re not mad?” He mumbled, almost too low for me to hear. I was taken aback by his English, having fully thought he only spoke Japanese. Hiroko patted his head, looking to me apologetically.

            “Yuu-chan was so afraid that you hated him after the accident yesterday,” she began, hand running soothing circles along his arm, “He was sobbing before he even came through the entryway.” She smiled again, this time at Yuuri. His face flushed and he dug his face deeper, as if the fabric could swallow him up. My heart broke a little, imagining this sweet boy coming home with puffy eyes and apologies on his lips. I adjusted my position slightly, turning my body to face the boy, biting back a wince.

            “Yuuri, I told you before you left that I was fine didn’t I?” I asked softly, afraid to scare him more than I already had. He didn’t respond, only nodding his head roughly.

            “Then why would you think I was upset with you?” I pressed, eyebrows furrowing. I was positive that I had made it as clear as possible that I wasn’t mad at them, despite how much I wanted to give that Nishigori a talking to. Slowly, Yuuri let go of Hiroko’s pants, instead balling his fists into his own shirt. He turned to face me, his big eyes made impossibly larger with fear. I offered him a smile, but he ducked his head, eyes focusing on the floor.

            “Nishigori said that we had ruined your practice…” He said solemnly, his voice straining. Oh please don’t cry. A small hiccup warned me that he probably would.

            “He said that you got hurt…” He continued, bringing his teary eyes to mine. My chest tightened, both in heartbreak and in anger. This Nishigori just didn’t know when to shut up. Despite my stomach twisting uncomfortably, I smiled.

 

 I untangled my legs and stood up gracefully, ignoring the searing pain in my hip. Yakov growled my name in warning, but I ignored him. I quietly stepped back before slipping into first position, then into a single pirouette, careful to avoid the table. Forcing myself to relax, I stopped myself without so much as a wobble. The look of awe in the boy’s eyes was worth the painful ache in my leg. I crouched down in front of him, the movement sending a jolt of pain in my thigh, but I was quick to mask my discomfort.

            “See?” I teased playfully, smiling as the boy wiped at his eyes, “I’m completely ok!” The boy nodded, a smile beginning to creep on his lips. I sat back down on the cushion, Yuuri turning to Hiroko and starting to speak. I watched curiously as her eyes twinkled in amusement, nodding along dutifully. To my surprise, he turned to Yakov, only the slightest tremble betraying his look of determination.

            “May I take V-Viktor to the hot spring now?” He asked, voice barely steady. I looked to Yakov, who seemed taken aback. He glared at me, only to be met with a glare of my own.

            “Yakov,” I warned, switching to Russian, “Don’t go scaring him-“ He snorted in response, crossing his arms.

            “As if I’m going to yell at this kid! Look at him, he’s barely keeping from crying just from talking to you.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he lifted his chin in defiance.

            “The whole point was to bring you to the hot spring so do what you like, but I swear if you keep pulling dumb shit like this-“ I cut him off by clapping my hands excitedly, turning to Yuuri, who looked more than a little lost as he looked between Yakov and I. The older man huffed, giving Yuuri a curt yes. The boy immediately perked up, eyes sparkling in excitement. Yuuri grabbed my hand in his (if I’m being honest he could only hold two of my fingers, but the sentiment remained) and he dragged me away from the table, barely allowing me to stumble up from my position on the floor. I heard Hiroko giggle as Yuuri marched on, taking five steps for every one of mine.


End file.
